


Makes a dragon wanna retire, man

by CardiacCrisis



Series: Dragon Omens [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A special mystery date... don't tell anyone it's, Aziraphale and Crowley Have Their Picnic (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Banter, Do it with style Good Omens Mini Bang, Dragon AU, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Misinterpreting the Bible & extrapolating historical fact to justify ineffable dragon-shaped spouses, Nesting, Romance, So much love and affection, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), They’re dragon-shaped beings for a change, Wingfic technically, star-gazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25120831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CardiacCrisis/pseuds/CardiacCrisis
Summary: On the eve of a mysterious outing Crowley has set up, a belligerent tourist shows up to the bookshop and threatens to make them late to their date. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so Crowley transforms into a massive serpent to terrorize their unwanted guest... Only to find out that the legs God had cursed off him long ago were back! And- wait, why is Aziraphale a dragon now too?!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Dragon Omens [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819684
Comments: 46
Kudos: 71
Collections: Good Omens Mini Bang





	1. Legs for Days

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank-you to the [Do It With Style](https://do-it-with-style-events.tumblr.com/) crew for setting up this lovely [Good Omens Mini Bang](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/diws_mini_bang)!
> 
> So much love to the wonderful artists [Disgustiphage](https://disgustiphage.tumblr.com/) and [amadness2method](https://amadness2method.tumblr.com/) who were just as excited about ineffable dragon spouses as I was and made some lovely art to go with this fic!
> 
> The fic title is a line from [Uptown Funk](https://youtu.be/OPf0YbXqDm0), which is an absolute _bop_. And thanks to [ShinyHappyGoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinyHappyGoth/pseuds/ShinyHappyGoth) for a couple of song-related jokes below!

By: **[CardiacCrisis](https://cardiaccrisis.tumblr.com/)**

It was a nice day, lovely and uncharacteristically sunny. The weatherman promised the return of the usual grey drizzle tomorrow, and so all of London was out enjoying the temporary reprieve from the gloom. A certain pair of supernatural entities spent a very leisurely morning eating a marvelous brunch at a froufrou bistro, and a peaceful afternoon napping and lazing in bed. Afterwards, Aziraphale strode down the stairs from his flat onto the bookshop floor and appraised the sky through the oculus above.

 _On such a beautiful day like this_ , the angel thought to himself, _no one in their right mind would want to spend it in a dingy, damp old bookshop_ , and so he considered it safe enough to flip the sign to Open.

"Awfully brave of you, angel.” Crowley slid down the spiral railing of the bookshop's staircase, failing to stick the landing. He skidded to a stop just inches away from a row of bookshelves that were perpetually about to topple of old age. After he stopped windmilling, Crowley leaned against one of the shelves, not a hair out of place. "On such a beautiful day like this, all the humans are bound to be out and about with their money burning holes in their pockets."

Aziraphale laughed at him. Of course Crowley would be fully dressed in the latest fashion five minutes after waking, even though it would probably take a mortal of his size a quarter hour to squeeze their body into such tight trousers. But there weren't enough miracles in the world to give Crowley complete control over those gangly legs of his, especially when he was trying to imitate some cinema hero or another.

"Oh Crowley, do not tempt the humans to come in here or we might have to delay our mysterious dinner date today." Aziraphale set the kettle to boil as Crowley draped himself artfully over the nearest armchair. Aziraphale watched him settle in with a little amusement and a lot of affection. Only his serpent could somehow find comfort on a chair while only resting about 5% of his surface area upon it.

Crowley was very much aware of Aziraphale's gaze, and he pushed his sunglasses up higher on his nose, trying to stay cool and not give away how much it flustered him. "'Course I wouldn't. That's beyond wiles. If I made someone buy a book of yours, I think you might smite me a little, even after everything."

Aziraphale just grinned at him again. "Well it would certainly depend on the book in question. I wouldn't be terribly bothered to sell a copy of _Blood Dogs of the Skull Sea_. A misprint Bible, on the other hand—"

The jingling of the shop door opening interrupted Aziraphale, and Crowley thought perhaps it was for the best that he didn't hear the rest of that sentence.

"Stay right there and don't touch anything, I will be with you in just a moment!" called Aziraphale with such an edge of sternness to his voice that even Crowley almost stepped away from the bookshelves. Aziraphale poured two cups of tea, handed one to Crowley, and pressed a kiss onto his cheek before charging onto the bookshop floor.

Crowley clutched the cup of tea as he turned bright red despite himself. Averting the Apocalypse had brought a lot of changes to their Arrangement these last few weeks, and Crowley found himself slower to adjust than he had expected.

It had started with Aziraphale holding his hand on the bus back to Mayfair. It was unexpected and new, but welcome and surprisingly… natural. Aziraphale's hand was gentle and pleasantly warm. Crowley's hand had been clammy, but Aziraphale didn't let go, all the way from Tadfield to Mayfair. After a particularly heavenly long day, it had soothed away the edge of Crowley's apocalyptic panic.

Then there was a hug back at Crowley's flat. The comforting solidity of Aziraphale's soft, plush body against his, the way Aziraphale's own arms were wrapped tightly around Crowley's waist like he never planned to let go, and the familiar scent of Aziraphale and his cologne settled some of Crowley's nerves. He could allow his heart to beat again without the fear of instant discorporation by cardiac arrest.

They had switched bodies that night, and it had saved them from their executions. Cradled in the body which had housed Aziraphale for so long that it could almost run the bookshop autonomously, Crowley could hardly believe how comfortable he felt. As if his heart had been placed between Aziraphale's ribs and told "look, there's room enough for two". It was that sense of peace that gave him the strength to put on the performance of a lifetime. Crowley was no Burbage, but no one knew Aziraphale's quirks better than Crowley, who had been orbiting the angel since the dawn of time.

If Heaven had examined their captured traitor more closely, looked past the corporation wreathed in six millennia of goodwill and miracles and a lazy enjoyment of life's pleasures, they would have both been killed, and properly.

If Crowley had let Aziraphale's corporation die and be replaced with another at any point in their history, Crowley suspected that their scheme wouldn't have worked. If the Antichrist hadn't restored Aziraphale perfectly into his old body, their scheme wouldn't have worked. If Heaven and Hell hadn't colluded to provide the ultimate death to Crowley and Aziraphale, their scheme wouldn't have worked.

But their scheme _had_ worked, and now they were free.

Meeting with Aziraphale again on that park bench afterwards, his angel housed in Crowley's body and wonderfully safe and alive—he had felt an elation like nothing else. Aziraphale was back, Aziraphale was safe, and Aziraphale was smiling. They swapped back, and Crowley made no effort to disguise his joy at being with his angel again.

The Ineffable Plan turned out to be much better than the Great one. The failed apocalypse, and the events leading up to it, were the culmination of a long and unusual series of events. What were the odds of Crowley delivering the baby to the wrong parents, of a random man connecting with his witchfinder heritage days before armageddon, of an angel finding a lost book that had been closely guarded for centuries? That knowledge was what had cemented Crowley's confidence that he and Aziraphale would be left to their own devices for a good, long while.

After a perfectly lovely dinner at the Ritz, they had walked hand in hand back to the restored bookshop. They practically emptied Aziraphale's wine stash in their elation as they sang (badly) and danced (poorly) and laughed (loudly). If they had collapsed in a blissfully exhausted heap on the couch together afterwards, limbs tangled as they snored through the early morning, who could blame them?

When they awoke the next morning, Crowley found that he had been using Aziraphale's stomach as a pillow.

"Whuh… Angel… Aaaangel. Why've you got a… a… a whatchamacallit… tummy thing… y'know… baby anchor thing. Y'weren't ever a baby," Crowley had remarked with great insight.

In an eloquent response, Aziraphale yawned and patted Crowley's head. Or rather, he tried to pat Crowley's head but missed and ended up patting Crowley's face. Crowley didn't mind. His glasses were off and Aziraphale's hand was warm and gentle against his cheek. And then Aziraphale's thumb was brushing mindlessly up and down the arch of Crowley's nose. Crowley's eyelids drooped, and soon enough he was snoring again, his arms wrapped more securely around Aziraphale's soft middle.

They finally awoke properly that evening when Aziraphale rolled over and knocked them both onto the floor, and after spending almost twenty-four hours jumbled together, mumbling nonsense between snores and occasionally drooling, it seemed silly to jump into separate seats and pretend they had never touched. Crowley helped Aziraphale rebutton his shirt, without missing three of them like he had last night, and Aziraphale finger-combed Crowley's hair back into an artfully messy quiff. Once they established some semblance of order, they snapped for a delivery and fed each other preternaturally fast food. They were both flushed and nervous and a little jittery the whole time, but they had never enjoyed a meal more.

Aziraphale — the present one, the angel currently berating a tourist for bending the spine of a book — raised his hand, ready to miracle some sense into the human's mind. But Crowley was quicker, and a truly obnoxious ringtone started reverberating around the bookshop, off-pitch electronic chirps and tinny warbling. Startled by the unfamiliar modernity of the sound, Aziraphale stepped back, and the tourist pulled her phone up to her ear. "What do you _mean_ my flight's been delayed," she yelled, stomping out of the bookshop. "I'm meant to be in Paris by morning!"

Pleased, Aziraphale needlessly straightened out his coat, and the fantastically smug grin he shot at Crowley almost made the demon fall out of the armchair.

"That was awfully rude of you, dear, but very much appreciated."

Crowley leaned too casually against the register, thereby revealing exactly how much he appreciated the praise. "S'nothing, angel. Er… What were you saying?"

"I was saying, dearest, that I am very much looking forward to our dinner date." Aziraphale threw Crowley a coquettish glance. "Even though you've been _ever so_ mysterious about it. Are you sure you wouldn't like to give me just a little hint, sweetheart?"

"Keep buttering me up like that and _I'll_ be the only thing on the menu," groaned Crowley. "It's supposed to be a _surprise!"_

Aziraphale pouted playfully at him. Even though Crowley absolutely knew that his angel would complain even more loudly if Crowley spoiled the surprise, Crowley still had to pointedly look away before he could cave to Aziraphale's request.

"Well," sighed Aziraphale, "I'm looking forward to it, even if I don't have enough detail to picture it in my mind. And that's why I'm planning to close early—"

"Belly button!" Crowley interrupted. "Belly button— that was it. Not baby anchor." He shook his finger accusingly at Aziraphale. "Why do you have a belly button, angel?"

Puzzled by both the question and the change of topic, Aziraphale looked down at his stomach. There were several layers of clothing and a pair of useless reading glasses between his eyes and his navel, but that didn't mean much when he focused with an angelic gaze.

"Never thought about it, to be honest. It's a standard feature for assigned bodies, isn't it?"

Crowley shook his head. "No it's not. Not for demons at least." He tried to remember if he'd ever been forced to see any other demon's bare bellies but forcibly crashed that train of thought at the vision of Hastur in a crop top. "Hrk! Ylk. Hghghgh. Ughhhh. Hmm. Well, I don't have one, anyways. Not by default. I can manifest one, of course, if needed."

Aziraphale's brow wrinkled. "Dear boy, what on Earth would you need a belly button for? It's hardly necessary, and not particularly hygienic either."

"Obviously you need a belly button when you're baring your midriff, angel. The humans can talk about flat bellies all they like, but they get awful antsy if you wear a bikini without a belly button."

”Humans _are_ quite pedantic about that sort of thing." Aziraphale righteously ignored Crowley's snicker and its message implying that Aziraphale himself was actually the most pedantic being on the planet. He blinked as another thought struck him. "You've worn a bikini?"

Crowley waved his hand dismissively. "Not for very long. It really ruins the fun when the humans start yelling discriminatory and frankly hurtful statements about being an unholy motherless creature—"

The jingling of the shop's doorbell interrupted them again. Aziraphale's smile disappeared and annoyance sunk into every line of his face. Normally Crowley would secretly mourn a little whenever one of Aziraphale's beaming smiles disappeared, but the principality was also adjusting his bowtie in a way that spelled Trouble for any humans on the wrong end of it. Crowley turned to watch with glee as Aziraphale strode purposefully onto the shop floor once more.

The obnoxious tourist from earlier was back. This time Crowley appraised her more closely, with the expert eye of a fallen angel and part-time book protector.

The woman was short, with narrowed brown eyes, grit teeth, and a "speak to your manager" haircut. Crowley mused that the helmet of hair with bright yellow streaks must be a warning to others that this was an apex predator of a human. The haircut said: _bring unto me the highest of your authorities, so that I may force them to prostrate themselves before my power_.

There was only one surefire way to be rid of this sort of creature, and that was to prove oneself even more monstrous and powerful than the challenger. Luckily, there was an easy way to do that, if you were of demonic and serpentine origins. While Crowley still had a lingering fear of forgetting how to shift back to his preferred humanoid form, the thought of Aziraphale shining that beaming bright grin at him for dispatching a would-be customer empty-handed is enough of a reward to outweigh almost any risk. And today he had an even stronger motivation: the date he had been carefully planning for weeks.

The first step of scaring away customers was to get out of sight. After Aziraphale had affectionately compared Crowley's transformation on the wall of Eden to the cover of Warlock's _Animorphs_ book, Crowley was a little self-conscious about it. Sure, he knew Aziraphale loved him and didn't mind his scaled side, but Crowley was demon enough to admit that the in-between stages of his shapeshifting could be less cool and intimidating than he would like.

 _"Excuse me?!"_ Aziraphale's voice echoed through the bookshop, bouncing off thousands of books busy collecting dust. The sound was full of horror and disgust, which meant that the customer had gone so far as to ask for the price of a book.

Crowley pulled off his sunglasses and balanced them on top of a book stack that looked slightly more balanced than the others. He knew that it was only a matter of time before he ran into a woman of this type who was immune to the fear of snakes, and at that point he would be well and truly fucked. But hopefully that day was not today, because despite his unease with shapeshifting, he was really determined to chase this would-be customer out of their lives. He had plans for tonight, and no human, no matter how venomous, was going to impede them.

"No, I do _not_ accept 'credit cards'," Aziraphale's voice rang out with vicious fervor. "What sort of sordid establishment do you think this is?"

Uh oh. The situation sounded dire—his angel must be backed up against the till. Crowley hurriedly fell forward, clothes melting away as his skin bristed over with dark scales, body lengthening, teeth sharpening, the whole nine yards. Well, not the _whole_ nine yards. Crowley's full-size snake form would overwhelm the cluttered space available in the bookshop, but twenty-seven feet of snake would still be fearsome enough for his purposes.

Upon landing on the floor, Crowley let out a loud hiss of warning. His augmented senses showed him the heat signature of each of the bookshop's occupants, from the bright silhouette of the belligerent tourist to the maelstrom of light from an outraged angel to the tiny critters who could call the bookshop their home as long as they did not touch the books.

" _Cash?"_ sputtered Aziraphale. "In this economy? With the number of forgeries out and about? Dash my wig, I've never heard of anything more preposterous."

It was time for Crowley's grand entrance. He opted for the high ground, periscoping upwards until he could peek over the nearest bookshelf. He spotted his angel holding a massive tome in both hands, preparing to either hug it close or smack the interloper with it. Crowley slithered up and over the bookshelf with another loud hiss—

He was stuck.

Why was he stuck?

He backed up a bit, and had no trouble slithering back down the bookcase, but when he rushed forward again, his shoulder caught against the bookcase—

…

Shoulder?!

Crowley turned his head, saw a scaley arm sticking out of his side and shrieked.

"Crowley!" shouted Aziraphale, worried, and the demon's head automatically swiveled back towards his angel, surging over the top of the bookcase and flopping down the other side despite his new flailing limbs—

And then Crowley's knees(?!) slammed into the back of the bookcase, toppling it, and his head and neck were going to be crushed by half a ton of dusty old books—

But the bookcase stopped and rocked back into place even as Crowley flipped onto the floor and landed on his back with a wounded yelp.

"Crowley! I'm sorry, are you alright dear?" Aziraphale's concern was clear in his voice as he peered down at Crowley.

"Mnyeah, I'm alright angel… wait. Wait a minute." Crowley stared muzzily up at Aziraphale. He tried blinking, and when that didn't change what he saw, he rubbed his eyes. Or, at least he tried to rub his eyes, but he wasn't used to having limbs yet and accidentally punched his own chin. "Ow! Hssssk. Angel. Aziraphale. When'd you get a _snout?!"_

"Very recently," said Aziraphale, but now that he knew Crowley was alright, he was surveying the bookshop to check for any damage and locked eyes with the pale, trembling tourist.

And Crowley was delighted to notice that the glint of gleeful, concentrated bastardry in Aziraphale's expression was instantly recognizable, even with a reptilian snout in the way.

Aziraphale took a deep breath and _roared_ , an echo of the trumpets at Jericho, and the woman scarpered, vaulting over Crowley's tail and sprinting out of the shop, screaming. The shop doors slammed shut and locked themselves behind her with a cheerful jingle.

Satisfied, Aziraphale smugly adjusted his bowtie, a gesture which never failed to make Crowley's brain automatically short-circuit with delight. Crowley blinked up at his angel, which was now dragon-shaped but still wearing clothing? How was Crowley supposed to articulate any thoughts when Aziraphale's eyes were twinkling at him and he was sporting parchment-colored scales with gilt edges, very handsome horns and a line of fluffy down along his neck?

"Whuh— rkt— angel?! What'd you do that for?" Crowley asked. The fact that he was on his back on the floor under his angel-turned-dragon who had effortlessly lifted a bookshelf definitely had him feeling some kind of way.

"Pish posh!" said Aziraphale. "It's hardly London if we don't scare off a tourist or two." He patted Crowley's shoulder affectionately with an exquisitely manicured paw. "Up you get, darling. These new limbs of yours are quite a surprise! I dare say they suit you, my dear."

Crowley groaned, then attempted to get up. This involved a lot of squirming and cursing and gnashing of teeth, and the occasional worried titter from Aziraphale when a flailing limb got too close to any of his books. But after an embarrassingly long time, Crowley was able to get his feet underneath him, even if he thought having four of them at once was outrageous and unnecessary.

"Hardly _new_ ," Crowley groused, examining his claws with mild distaste. "They're over 6000 years old, they are. Barely got to use them though, so I suppose they're as good as."

Aziraphale's eyes widened, and he peered at Crowley with renewed interest. "This is what you looked like before you tempted poor Eve?"

" _Poor Eve_ ," Crowley repeated in a mockery of Aziraphale's voice. "How about poor Serpent? Eve got to keep all of her bits!"

"Ah, yes," said Aziraphale. He recited, " _Because you have done this, you are cursed more than all cattle, and more than every beast of the field; on your belly you shall go, and you shall eat dust all the days of your life_."

Impressed, Crowley asked, "Have you been studying, angel?"

Aziraphale looked away and coughed delicately. Crowley watched him until he finally admitted, "Alright, well, the truth is that I've memorized certain verses of interest, that's all."

"The ones about us?" asks Crowley, his tilted head suggesting that his actual question was _The ones about me?_

Aziraphale looked down at the floor, but his grin was still blinding. Crowley felt very warm at the thought.

Then Aziraphale lifted his head again. "I thought you were supposed to eat dust all the days of your life. Is that why you're such a poor eater?"

Crowley rolled his eyes. "I'm living with you and your books, which means I'm feasting on a pound of dust daily before breakfast. But it's easy enough. She didn't say _how much_ dust. No matter what you're doing, you're bound to at least get a speck or two throughout the day. But do you have any idea how much I've made off dust pills as so-called nutritional supplements? 'Keratin-silica-carbon compound', I called it. Just flew off the shelves, golly!"

"That doesn't sound nutritious at all," said Aziraphale with a furrowed brow.

"It's not, and that's the best part! What an awful scandal when the news came out. Anyways, that verse must've been a mistranslation. What She actually said was _'you shall eat dust until the final day'_."

"The final day…" Aziraphale mused. "Well! That came and went, didn't it? Lovely that you got your legs back after that whole dreadful business."

Crowley grumbled unintelligibly for a moment, looking down at his paws. "Hardly know what to do with them now, barely had them before they got taken away again."

"Let me take a look, darling. I never got to see this form of yours." Aziraphale shot one of his bubbly bright smiles at Crowley and left his not-really-new knees weak.

"Mm. Yeah, uh. Alright." Crowley fidgeted as Aziraphale walked around him for a closer look, way more used to being the circler than the circlee. "Though, I didn't look exactly like this back then. Had to give up more than just the legs to manage living in the dirt."

"Really?" Aziraphale was intrigued. "What _did_ you look like then, before?"

"Wellll," he drew out the sound, shifting into a more theatrical stance. "I did have a mane back then." And he shook out his long neck and luxurious red curls tumbled down the curve of his spine.

"How lovely," breathed Aziraphale.

Crowley basked in the attention. "And I had some horns, to give a proper demonic impression, of course." He threw his head back, then lowered it to show off his long, sharp horns, and the bright feathered crests on each side of his head.

"Simply spectacular, darling," cooed Aziraphale.

Crowley basked a little more. "And naturally, I had my wings." And he spread them, sleek, shiny, and iridescent, his black wings built for speed, and acrobatics, and daring escapes. Aziraphale stepped closer to properly marvel at his glossy feathers, and Crowley was very, very glad that he had taken the time to groom them yesterday.

"So _very_ handsome," Aziraphale murmured, circling around Crowley to admire him from every angle. It was an experience Crowley was never on the receiving end of, so he fidgeted, despite his efforts, and kept turning his head to check where Aziraphale was.

Aziraphale, the clever bastard, noticed Crowley's discomfort, and in his infinite mercy, brushed against Crowley's soul with his magic. It was what the angel always did when Crowley circled him, extending a little bit of power to track the demon's orbit. At first, it had been wary, but over time it became a habit, then an affectionate greeting.

The familiarity and the warmth of his angel's power comforted Crowley immensely. He relaxed, lazily fanning his feathers and crest for Aziraphale to examine, knowing in his heart of hearts that his angel would never reject him.

And his angel didn't disappoint. "Quite as fetching as all of your forms, darling. And I do appreciate the unimpeded view of your beautiful eyes." Aziraphale lifted a paw, then looked at Crowley expectantly, and when his demon nodded, he began to comb through Crowley's mane with his claws. "Such a handsome dragon! No wonder the stories stuck with humanity from the beginning!"

If Crowley had been man-shaped, he would have flushed bright red at the praise. Instead, he pressed his snout against Aziraphale's neck. His angel's scent was slightly different in this form. A little more spice from his feathers since they were fully manifested, and a little more musk. But the aroma of old books and dust and expensive cologne and his ancient waistcoat stayed the same, and Crowley couldn't help but move a little closer.

Aziraphale laughed as Crowley's tongue flickered against his scales. "Oh love!" He pressed a little kiss onto Crowley's cheek, then started carefully braiding Crowley's mane. "Why didn't you keep the mane and the horns and the wings then? I thought She only took away your legs."

Crowley sighed. "You're right, but I learned very quickly that squirming around on the floor is very different from walking. Your hair gets absolutely disgusting, dragging about in the mud, so I was forced to get rid of it. And holding up your wings all day to stop them from getting filthy is very tiring, so I put them away. And horns will get you stuck in _very_ embarrassing situations when you've slithered into something and then can't slither back out of it." He shrugged. "Can't do better than a smooth tube for legless locomotion."

After he had resigned himself to the shape all other snakes (and some lizards) would copy, God had returned to add insult to injury. He was very glad that old Moses couldn't figure out how to transcribe "And lo, the Lord God spake unto the demon Crawley: '♫♪♪♪ Another one bites the dust'." Crowley hadn't understood it at the time, but now he was almost positive that the Queen albums were just another one of God's ineffable little jokes.

Aziraphale clucked sympathetically. "Oh you poor dear. Well, I, for one, still find you absolutely stunning as a snake. Especially since you can't wear your glasses without ears, which means I get to admire your gorgeous yellow eyes." His lips curled up in a grin. "And I assure you, Crowley, that you are very smooth in _all_ of your forms."

Crowley groaned again, lightly headbutting Aziraphale's shoulder to express his disapproval.

Aziraphale merely laughed at him. Crowley shot him a reproachful look and rearranged his coils on the floor to settle more comfortably.

"Can you breathe fire?" Aziraphale asked.

"Always could, angel, first trick in the book for a demon."

Aziraphale paused. "There's a book? Can I see it?"

"Angel, that was a metaphor."

"Oh..."

"Don't look so disappointed," Crowley groaned, "for the love of G—, Sa—"

Aziraphale perked up and grinned. "For the love of you."

"...wot?" Crowley processed that for a moment, then groaned again, long and loud. "Ohhhh, _Aziraphale!_ That's illegal, you can't just _say_ things like that, for Somebody's sake."

Aziraphale chuckled, very smug.

Crowley sighed, then settled back to admire Aziraphale. "Why are _you_ a dragon now anyways, angel? I mean, this form _does_ better match your book hoarding problem, but you won't even give errant adventurers a sporting chance at _your_ treasure."

"Well, I saw that you had turned into a dragon, and I had no clue why you would do that. And I also saw that you were about to get yourself hurt clambering all over my bookcases like that. I wasn't sure what to do, so I turned myself into a dragon as well."

Crowley looked very impressed. "Whoo-ee, angel! You came up with that form so quickly? That's terrific!"

"Er… Not quite." Aziraphale cleared his throat. "I… er. I already had this form, it's just not one that I use very often. Or at all, really. Not for a while, at least."

Puzzled, Crowley watched Aziraphale fidget. "You have a dragon form? Wasn't aware that principalities got those."

"Ah. No, principalities do not typically have draconic aspects. And actually I do not have a draconic aspect either. This is just a form I— It's a form I made up."

"A form you made up," repeated Crowley, incredulous.

"Yes."

"But you never actually use it?"

"No, not as such. Not really."

"So then why do you have a dragon form that you made up if you hardly ever use it?"

"Well… It's a bit of a long story, but… Do you recall our, er, quibble at St. James Park? Over the holy water?"

"How could I forget?" Crowley made a face.

"Yes, quite. After that rather disastrous argument, we didn't speak for such a long time. I missed our meetings something dreadful. And I needed to distract myself somehow. So when I found out about the Hundred Guineas Club, well, it sounded like an absolutely marvelous diversion!"

"The Hundred Guineas Club," Crowley repeated dumbly.

"The very same! It was quite enchanting, my dear boy, you ought to have seen it! The outfits, the conversation, the _dancing!_ Perfectly glamorous! Could have only been improved with your company, my dear."

"Right," said Crowley faintly.

"Dancing and chatting all day, then back to my flat for peaceful reading all night," Aziraphale reminisced.

"Oh. Oh! Alright. Alright, yeah. Reading all night." Crowley said, sounding strangely relieved.

Aziraphale gave him an odd look, but continued. "And they had such a fun custom, in the Hundred Guineas Club, of dressing up in women's clothing and inventing a sort of female persona. A little bit of theatre and improvisation! Outside the Hundred Guineas Club, I am Aziraphale…" and here he paused dramatically for effect. "But _inside_ , I was Raffela!"

Crowley softened at that. "That does sound like fun, angel. I'm sure you were an excellent Raffela. Sorry I missed it."

"Oh, it's quite alright dear. Nothing is stopping me from being Raffela again if I so choose." He laughed as an idea struck him. "Perhaps I should have been Raffela the Gardener instead."

"Wouldn't have minded that at all," Crowley murmured. He'd refuse to admit it to anyone, but the truth was that despite Aziraphale's patently awful disguise choices, Crowley still couldn't help the way her heart had skipped when Brother Francis turned his bright gaze her way.

"And there were a few members who had a _second_ persona. An animal! It was very charming—reminded me of you, dear."

Crowley merely raised his eyebrow.

"Yes, yes. I was missing you terribly, so when asked to come up with an animal persona, I thought: a snake!"

 _"Really?"_ said Crowley, amused and highly flattered.

"Yes, really. But another chap had already chosen a snake as his persona!" Aziraphale pouted. "So I was forced to come up with another idea. And I had just been reading _The Green Serpent_ in _The Fairy Tales of Madame D'Aulnoy_ , and I thought: how about a dragon? Still a beast, but an extraordinary one!"

"Huh. So you came up with this dragon form?"

"Well, not at first." Aziraphale shifted from paw to paw, clearly embarrassed. "At first I described to them a dragon based on _you_. Long, sleek, dark. But everyone insisted that this dragon persona didn't suit Raffela at all. And _that_ was when I came up with this form."

"Golly. Well, I do like it. And it _does_ suit you." He took a moment to admire Aziraphale's delicate scales, feathered belly, and strong build.

"Why thank you, dearest." Aziraphale preened. "It was the fruit of many years of research on the depiction of dragons across human history and geography, which was an absolutely _fascinating_ task."

"Yeah?" asked Crowley, impressed. "It's a pity you couldn't show them the fruit of your labors."

Aziraphale sighed. "Yes, I was terribly disappointed when I rushed to tell my friends about my completed persona, only to find that the club had been disbanded." Perhaps he _had_ gotten a bit off-track researching Meso-American prophecies and architecture after learning about Quetzalcoatl.

"Just one more question, Aziraphale. If you're a dragon, why on Earth are you wearing _clothes_?" Crowley pointed indignantly at Aziraphale's glasses, bowtie, dress shirt, waistcoat, and overcoat.

Aziraphale sniffed indignantly. "I think it's rather obvious why I'm wearing clothes. The more appropriate question is: _Crowley, why are you naked?_ "

"M'not naked!" Crowley protested. "I'm a snake so—"

" _Hardly_ , look at those fancy claws—"

"Okay I'm a dragon, whatever, anyways because I'm a beast that means that, by definition, I can't be naked, because I'm not s'posed to be wearing anything in the first place."

"But you're _not_ a beast, Crowley," insisted Aziraphale. "You're a demon, and as far as I've seen, all demons wear clothing. You tend to like terribly modern clothing in particular, remember?"

Incredulous, Crowley asked, "Angel, were you really expecting me to be wearing clothing as a snake all this time?"

"Well I thought it would be rude to say so, but—"

Crowley groaned. "What kind of blessed clothing is a snake supposed to wear?"

"None at all, of course," said Aziraphale with an indignant sniff. "Animals oughtn't be forced to wear clothing."

"Alriiiight, so then what kind of clothing do you think a snake demon is _supposed_ to wear?"

"A little bow at least, I should think. For propriety's sake, you understand."

Crowley rolled his eyes and settled in for a good, long argument, when he was interrupted by the chiming of the bookshop's grandfather clock.

"Oh!" gasped Aziraphale. "It's time for our date!"

"Oh," echoed Crowley. "Is it that time already? Guess we'd better shift back—we're not going to fit in the Bentley like this."

Aziraphale wrung his paws, glancing up at Crowley, then blurted out, "Must we really?"

"Really what?" And then Crowley became visibly nervous, coiling into himself a little bit. "You don't mean… You don't mean 'must we really go on the date', right?"

"Oh Crowley dear, of course not!" He wrapped one of his massive white wings around Crowley and tucked his snout under Crowley's chin, lifting Crowley's head up. "No, darling, I just meant that perhaps we don't have to shift back. I think it will be fun to stay like this a little longer, that's all."

But then Aziraphale was the one embarrassed as he realized, "Oh! I don't actually know what your plans are—did we need to be man-shaped? Because I don't mind shifting back at all if—"

Crowley, grinning softly, bumped Aziraphale's cheek with his own. "It's alright, angel. Turns out that our date night would work just as well in these forms. We'll just have to tweak the plan a bit. No romantic drive through the country, but we could fly. If you'd like."

" _Thank you_ , love!" Aziraphale heaved a sigh of relief. "Stretching out my wings is a perfectly marvelous idea. And as much as I love you, Crowley, with every atom of my being, there is simply no way you can turn a drive into a romantic experience with your notorious lead foot."

Sulking, Crowley muttered, "Shows what _you_ know. Absolutely could drive romantically, if I wanted to."

But after the sardonic look Aziraphale shot him, Crowley gave in. "Alright, alright. Perhaps the drive wasn't my best plan. But I think you'll like the rest of it much more."

"I _am_ excited to discover what you've planned for us, dear." Aziraphale set down his glasses, tugged on his vest and straightened his bow tie. "Let's get a wiggle on!"

Crowley wasn't sure why he _liked_ the fact that Aziraphale insisted on walking just as he always did, even with radically different anatomy. He suspected that even if his angel took the form of a normal serpent, that he would figure out some way to slither with a straight back.

With one paw on the shop door, Aziraphale stopped and squinted out the window. "Oh, but there are so many people still bustling about, Crowley. Even if we make sure they don't notice us, it will be a terrible pain to take off from these crowded and narrow streets."

"So we won't," said Crowley.

"What are you proposing?" Aziraphale turned back towards him.

Crowley merely pointed upwards, at the skylight.

Aziraphale sputtered, "Crowley, no! That oculus cost a _fortune_ , and the kind of craftsmanship required is simply irreplaceable—"

"We don't have to _break_ it, angel. Just go _through_ it." He illustrated with a paw and tail gesture that only left Aziraphale looking puzzled. "Just got to noclip right through. And don't give me that look, I've seen you do it before. Does 'Knossos' ring a bell? Almost gave poor Daedal a heart attack when you got through his labyrinth so quickly."

"Well, I was hardly going to miss Pasiphaë's invitation for figs and cheese." He paused, then his expression scrunched with mild affront. "She told me her youngest was bullheaded, and it wasn't until afterwards that I realized that she didn't mean 'stubborn'."

"You always have gotten along well with other queens." Crowley grinned, affectionate. "But let's move, yeah? Wouldn't want to be late. Come on, I'll make sure the humans don't notice."

"Thank you, dear boy." Aziraphale returned to the center of the bookshop floor and pressed a kiss onto Crowley's jaw, then affectionately brushed his wing over Crowley's back. "Lead the way, love."

After a few moments spent bubbling with joy, Crowley dropped several kisses onto the crown of Aziraphale's head. He then shifted his coils to finally press his back paws against the floor, and he was long enough that he could almost bump into the oculus by simply raising into a bipedal stance. Just to show off a little, Crowley lifted himself the final few feet by periscoping with his tail. He slithered up through the glass and was soon coiled on the bookshop roof.

Aziraphale had been watching him, awestruck, and he clapped enthusiastically when Crowley completed his ascent. "Wahoo!" he exclaimed.

Crowley looked away momentarily, knowing that not even the lack of a blush could disguise the obvious delight in his expression.

"My turn now! Gangway!" shouted Aziraphale gleefully. He launched himself through the oculus with a leap and a stroke of his powerful wings. Crowley admired his angel's scales glittering in the sun, then rushed to join him in the skies above London.

It was a beautiful day.

By: **[Disgustiphage](https://disgustiphage.tumblr.com)**


	2. Going out on a limb

The heat of the bustling city below them provided a multitude of thermals to easily lift Crowley and Aziraphale to draconic cruising altitudes. While Aziraphale merely spread his massive wings wide and let the updraft launch him higher into the sky, Crowley took a more sedate approach, spiraling slowly upwards. This way, he could watch Aziraphale's scales glitter prettily in the light of the setting sun. If Aziraphale also happened to notice the iridescent sheen of Crowley's feathers as he circled towards his angel, well, Crowley would claim that was an unintended side effect.

Once Crowley reached Aziraphale's elevation, the angel smiled at him and carefully swung closer to bump his snout affectionately against Crowley's. "Lead the way, dearest," he said, wiggling in a telltale sign of happiness even midair.

Crowley smiled back, helplessly besotted. "Of course, angel." He turned and headed south, and Aziraphale easily matched his pace, flying on his right. The setting sun lit Aziraphale from behind, his pale scales and feathers bathed in brilliant colours, and Crowley couldn't help but admire him as they flew away from the city.

Aziraphale's wings were long and broad, effortlessly lifting his large body with the slightest wind. When he deigned to flap, the gusts of wind were enough to knock Crowley temporarily off-course. It didn't help that the blasts of air carried Aziraphale's distracting scent to Crowley's forked tongue.

Crowley's narrower wings were not nearly as suited for long-distance flight. They had been built to chase, to impress, to escape. And nothing was stopping him from doing that now, he realised. Energy surged through him at the thought, and his wings started to flap in earnest.

Crowley shot ahead of Aziraphale, ignoring the angel's little questioning noise as he passed by. Glancing back, Crowley saw that he had Aziraphale's attention, though the angel continued flying forwards at the same leisurely pace. Perfect.

With a whoop of exhilaration, Crowley lifted his snout upwards, twisting in the air until he hovered before Aziraphale, his long body and wings spread to catch the light. Aziraphale's confused look turned into one of wonder. To shake off the answering grin curling his own mouth, Crowley leapt forwards, flying a collision course right at Aziraphale.

It was a measure of the bond between them that Aziraphale didn't flinch or dodge away, flight path unchanged in the face of a charging demon. And he was right to trust, because a tail's length away from crashing their snouts together, Crowley abruptly turned. He arced into a tight spiral up and around Aziraphale, so close that Aziraphale's gold-tipped primaries almost brushed the scales of his belly. His long body coiled around Aziraphale like a ribbon midair, his orbit continually tightening after he cleared the width of Aziraphale's wings, so that he almost tied himself in a knot at the end of Aziraphale's tail.

When he passed the soft cloudy tip of the angel’s tail, Crowley turned and repeated the trick, only spiraling forwards _with_ Aziraphale's flight instead. And this time that meant he could hear Aziraphale gasping in delight, see his paws clapping furiously, and catch his warm gaze. Needless to say, if Aziraphale hadn't made his own quick flight adjustments, Crowley's distraction at the admiration might have knocked them both out of the sky.

"Wahoo!! Wahoo!!" cheered Aziraphale nonetheless. "Oh dear boy, that was marvelous! What fancy footwork—err, wingwork! Simply spectacular, Crowley, you really must teach me how to do such a _clever_ trick someday!"

As always when presented with Aziraphale's blatant affection and approval, Crowley struggled to come up with a response that didn't immediately give away the depths of bashful joy flooding him. He wasn't successful this time either, but after weeks of bumping into this problem often in their new and budding relationship, he was starting to make his peace with it. The glimmer in Aziraphale's eyes when he praised Crowley told him that the angel knew full well that it made his poor demon bubble over helplessly with love, and that this was the intended outcome.

Crowley managed an unintelligible little mumble that aimed at nonchalant but landed squarely on elated. He averted his eyes for a bit, purposefully checking out the landscape below them. And when he glanced back at Aziraphale, the angel was still smiling at him, full of the soft fondness that Crowley was slowly getting used to.

"Dearest, you seem a little tired," said Aziraphale. Now he was the one glancing away for a moment before turning back to look at Crowley from under his eyelashes. "Bit of a wasted effort, both of us doing the flying, if we're headed to the same place."

That was Aziraphale's _tempting_ voice, and Crowley recognized it immediately. Neither of them would ever capital-T _Tempt_ each other, but recently Aziraphale had been making some suggestions in that same tone of voice, with no angelic compulsion behind it. It was a surefire sign that Aziraphale was offering Crowley a small act of service, his own way of thanking Crowley for so many eons of little favors.

Crowley shivered in delight, swallowing around the thrill of Aziraphale openly, brazenly courting him. "Whuh—mmm, what do you, uh, suggessst?"

"Wellll," and Aziraphale's gaze traced over the long line of Crowley's body with shameless admiration, "You know, I could always simply… carry you."

"Carry me?" Crowley echoed faintly.

"Yes." Aziraphale wrung his paws, clearly nervous. "It's always been… Well, it's always been a little fantasy of mine. To carry you off to someplace romantic. And this just seems like the perfect opportunity to do so…"

It took Crowley several attempts, but finally he managed to strangle out an enthusiastic "Yes!".

Aziraphale's gaze met Crowley's, and the angel's dazzling and overjoyed grin almost discorporated his poor demon.

Then Aziraphale tilted his wings until he was flying directly under Crowley, and invited him on with a laughing "Welcome onboard!"

Crowley tried to mock his tone, but he felt like he was about to burst into tears of joy. Instead he focused on carefully placing his front paws just above Aziraphale's shoulders, with his back paws gripping Aziraphale's waist. That way he could stop flapping and settle himself onto the angel's back without knocking him downwards or accidentally clawing up his clothes. Crowley then tucked his wings close to his body and coiled himself snugly around his angel, making sure to leave Aziraphale's wings unhindered.

"Perfect," breathed Aziraphale, and he patted one of Crowley's arms as it wrapped around the base of his neck.

Aziraphale barely seemed to be making any extra effort to fly, even with the additional weight of another whole dragon. _That was unreasonably attractive of him_ , Crowley thought.

He snuggled comfortably against Aziraphale's back. There was a line of down that trailed along Aziraphale's spine, and the warmth of it always amazed Crowley. It should have burnt him now, even though three layers of clothing, even as a demon immune to both mortal and hellish flame. But in the temple of Aziraphale's body, the holy fire that was meant to light swords and serve as weaponry in an eternal war, was instead tempered into love. A love that shielded and protected tirelessly, and against all odds.

Crowley sighed with pleasure and buried his snout in the heated down peeking out from Aziraphale's collar. A lot of the energy flickering in Aziraphale's soft feathers was borne of his love for the earth, and for the humans that resided there. But Crowley suspected that Aziraphale's down was so much more marvelously toasty these days because he no longer had to hide his love for Crowley.

"Comfortable, love?" Aziraphale's voice interrupted Crowley's thoughts.

"Abssssolutely," crooned Crowley, luxuriating in the experience and committing it to memory.

"Good, good." said Aziraphale. "Err. Just a, um, quick question. Where exactly am I meant to be flying us to?"

There was a thoughtful pause, and then they both burst out into laughter.

Crowley, still chuckling, slithered his way up Aziraphale's body until he could rub their cheeks together in greeting. "Mmm… We're a little off-course. Turn that way." He pointed with his tongue.

Aziraphale agreeably wheeled around, without even bellyaching about Crowley wrinkling his clothes. "Still keeping our destination a secret?"

"Hmmm…" Crowley pretended to think. "Well, since you _are_ doing the flying for both of us right now, I _sssuppose_ I could give you a little hint…"

"Really?" Aziraphale turned to look at him with his bright eyes shining.

How could Crowley resist? "Yes, well… You know we're heading _South_. And then we'll be going _down_ , right?"

"South and down?" repeated Aziraphale, then he gasped. "The South Downs? Crowley, are we going to the South Downs?"

"Perhapsss," he admitted, but Aziraphale had turned his head to bump his snout against Crowley's cheek in an enthusiastic kiss. "Yes, yes, you silly angel, our date is at the South Downs!"

Aziraphale wiggled with excitement, and Crowley temporarily lost the ability to do anything but cling to Aziraphale and appreciate it. "Oh Crowley, this is thrilling! We haven't visited in ages!"

Once Crowley recovered from the sheer sensory pleasure of an angel wiggling happily in the grip of his coils, he nuzzled at Aziraphale's jaw. "Thought it might be, hnk, nice to take a break from the city. Er, well not _nice_ , that's a four letter word, but uh, y'know, goo—Rlk. Ummm… _Appropriate_. Yes. Appropriate to take a break from the city, for a little while."

Aziraphale smiled brightly at him. "Such a perfectly lovely idea, my dear boy. I can't wait!" And his wings began to beat in earnest, shooting them towards the South Downs with incredible speed.

"Heigh ho!" said Anthony Crowley, and they laughed, gleeful and free.

* * *

"Down there," Crowley pointed. "This is the spot."

Aziraphale obligingly made a careful landing onto the top of the hill. "Oh, this is so exciting, my dear boy! Just look at this marvelous landscape!"

A patchwork quilt of living green stretched out before them, embroidered with wildflowers waving in the sea breeze. Twin pairs of rolling hills created a long valley that coiled away beyond view. The sun only barely peeked above the horizon now, and birdsong was quieting as night approached.

Still, the most gorgeous sight to Crowley was the wind-ruffled angel basking in the natural beauty of their surroundings. It was only with great reluctance that Crowley was able to uncoil himself from around Aziraphale and stand next to him. But Aziraphale's little mutter of disappointment at their separation filled Crowley's heart with joy again, and he pressed several kisses onto Aziraphale's cheek and snout until the angel giggled with delight.

"Feeling peckish, angel? I thought this might be a nice place for stargazing… and for a picnic." A _picnic_ was a loaded phrase for them, but after the successfully averted apocalypse, Crowley hoped it was finally an appropriate time to fulfill that promise.

Aziraphale's eyes glittered as he teared up with joy. "Oh yes, my dear boy, an absolutely _fantastic_ idea. _Jolly_ good!" He wiggled in place and brushed his paws over his clothes to smooth them back down, then looked up at Crowley with a blinding smile. "And what is this picturesque place you've brought us to today, Crowley?"

Crowley snickered. "I think you'll be disappointed to hear that this place is called Devil's Dyke."

Aziraphale regarded him mildly. "You say that as if I haven't been in love with a queer and nonbinary demon since time immemorial."

Crowley sputtered and coughed and tried valiantly to respond, but soon gave it up for a bad job. Instead he made several attempts at snapping to summon the picnic basket from his apartment, but his draconic paws were not very well suited for it. Aziraphale sat down next to him and leaned comfortably against Crowley's flank while he waited patiently for the demon to figure out his new/old limbs. And finally, with the warmth of his angel soothing his frustration, Crowley managed it, and a picnic basket materialized on the grass in front of them.

"...Looks awful small now, bless it." Crowley sighed. He had planned for many eventualities, but not for them to be dragon-sized on their dinner date.

Aziraphale chuckled. "I'm sure it's all still equally delicious, dearest."

Crowley's snout scrunched in annoyance. "Ye-ess, but it's not much of a picnic if it's all appetizer-sized."

"Well, there _is_ something I can do about that." Aziraphale snapped, and Crowley couldn't help but notice that he had no trouble at all doing so.

"Whuh—Angel, the basket looks exactly the same. Thought you were making it bigger?"

Aziraphale looked smug. "The basket doesn't need to be _bigger_. I simply did the old 'fish and loaves' trick. Besides, tiny foods are just _so_ charming to eat, don't you think so, my dear?"

Crowley made a noncommittal noise as he pulled a traditional red and white picnic blanket from the hamper and spread it onto the grass before them. "Tiny food's alright, I guess. But really _large_ food is where it's at. Instant gluttony! Y'wouldn't _believe_ how many commendations I got when Americans started coming up with very large and very fried foods."

Two champagne flutes came out next, though they looked laughably tiny in Crowley's talons. He gave Aziraphale a pointed look. Aziraphale had the grace to look sheepish. Crowley put the glasses back in the basket and pulled out a pair of champagne bottles from their ice bucket.

"Ooh, a 1967 Château Gilette Crème de Tête, Crowley? You spoil me, dear! I've been meaning to try it for ages."

"You deserve to be," said Crowley softly. "Spoiled, I mean."

"Well…" Aziraphale looked away, flustered. He changed the subject. "Don't think that I missed the significance of the year."

"Yeah." Crowley nestled against Aziraphale's side, reveling in his warmth. "S'when you suggested a picnic. And you put a lot of trust in me then, with the… water. Never said thanks properly, did I? Thought this would be a good time for it."

Aziraphale turned back towards him with a weak smile. "I'm very glad I trusted you then, dearest, though I should have trusted you much sooner. I thought keeping the water away from you was protection, when it was really the other way around."

"Shhhh sh sh, none of that, angel." Crowley pressed a few kisses onto the line of Aziraphale's jaw to distract him from his self-deprecating thoughts. "You saved me from certain death and much worse. S'why I picked up a fun bubbly for today. Come on," and he pulled out a long champagne sabre and offered it to Aziraphale. "Won't you do the honors, angel?"

Aziraphale eyed the sabre. "Hmmm. It has been quite a while since I used one of those."

"Come on, Aziraphale," Crowley wheedled. "You told me you taught Napoleon's cavalry to do this sabrage trick, and I've always wanted to see you do it. 'm sure you've still got the hang of it!"

Aziraphale was trying his best to not look flattered, but the curl of his lips gave him away. "Oh, alright. Just this once! You know I don't like to show off."

Crowley hid his snicker by turning back towards the picnic basket for a moment while uncaging the champagne. Judging by Aziraphale's sly grin, he hadn't been as discreet as he'd thought. Still, the angel rolled up his sleeves, then accepted the champagne sabre in one paw and the two bottles with his other paw. Aziraphale fiddled with the bottles until they were perfectly parallel in his grasp and their seams were both facing upwards. Then he tilted the necks up and away, setting the flat of the sabre blade just behind the shoulder.

"Ready?" he asked, as if Crowley's wide yellow eyes hadn't been glued to Aziraphale's movements the whole time.

Crowley's tongue flickered out of his mouth. "Ready."

"Here we go," said Aziraphale, and he swept the blade along the seams of the bottles, cracking off the tops of both bottles simultaneously and launching them up into the air. It was a testament to Aziraphale's skill that hardly any champagne bubbled out from the bottles, and upon inspection, the edges of the cracked bottles were perfectly smooth with no shards.

"And Bob's your uncle," declared Aziraphale cheerfully. "Err… Well, that's perhaps a bit blasphemous to say, considering who technically counts as your mother…"

Crowley tried to whistle his approval, but his throat was dry and he could only watch the thin streams of champagne dripping down Aziraphale's paw. The angel set the sabre and the bottles down onto the picnic blanket and lapped the champagne off his paw with a happy hum of approval. "Crowley, this is fantastic! Excellent choice of vintage, my dear boy!"

"Guh." Crowley swallowed. "Wlp. Krt. Mmm-hmm."

The amused, smug look Aziraphale gave him had Crowley quickly turning away to hide his sudden thirst. He focused on pulling food out from the hamper and arranging it on the blanket. Out came perfectly red apples and herbed olives and fresh figs and oysters in half-shell and scotch broth and roasted potatoes and sautéed hart and shepherd's pie and grapes in every color and savory crêpes and scones with clotted cream and a small boat of sushi and several tarts and two small cakes and three pints of gelato.

Aziraphale's eyes glittered with excitement, and his tail swung gleefully from side to side. " _Crowley!_ What a spread!"

Playing it cool, Crowley only coughed and made incoherent sounds for a few moments before saying, "Anything for my angel."

The sheer joy and delight beaming from Aziraphale's smile almost bowled the poor demon over. Perhaps he couldn't sense love, but he could swear there had to be something supernatural about the warmth he felt when Aziraphale grinned at him like that. It couldn't just be Crowley's love-addled brain, right?

Then Aziraphale sat down _very_ close to Crowley on the picnic blanket, his bright wing sweeping up and wrapping around Crowley and squeezing him lightly against his side. And Crowley melted into the embrace, sneaking one of his own wings under Aziraphale's so he could wing-hug his angel back. Aziraphale beamed down at him even more brightly, then pressed several kisses onto Crowley's snout and head and horns, laughing delightedly when Crowley's back leg thumped madly against the ground with pleasure.

"Crowley," he whispered, pressing one more kiss between his yellow and very dilated eyes. "Thank you, this is so charming."

"No problem," said Crowley faintly. "Only the best for you. 'Specially today. Anniversary of our Arrangement, innit? Big one. Big one zero zero zero. Thousand. Long time."

"Oh. Oh! You're— You're right! It had slipped my mind, but— it, it is, isn't it? Our anniversary…" Now Aziraphale looked bashful and even nervous, wringing his paws together and smoothing down his vest.

Crowley pressed his nose against Aziraphale's shoulder and patted his arm soothingly. "S'alright. Come on. Food's getting cold. And warm. Becoming wrong temperatures, anyhow. Getting wrong temperatures? That doesn't sound right, grammatically."

"Reaching wrong temperatures?" Aziraphale offered with a soft smile.

"Sounds better," Crowley agreed. He pulled out napkins and cutlery from the basket and offered the tiny things to Aziraphale. "Now eat up. Wrong temperatures are going to be reached, otherwise."

"Well, alright. Thank you, dearest!" He kissed the top of Crowley's head, then turned to the spread, rubbing his paws together in anticipation. "Where to begin?"

Crowley wrapped his long tail around Aziraphale's shorter one, and settled in to snuggle and watch the show. And what a breath-taking show it was! Pressed this close to the angel's side, Crowley was privy to not just the sound, but also the pleasant vibrations of Aziraphale's happy and somewhat indecent noises as he savored each mouthful. Every one of Aziraphale's excited wiggles travelled along Crowley's body as well, between the warm press of Aziraphale's wing and the soft comfort of Aziraphale's side.

But the absolute best part of the experience was when Aziraphale paused his meal to offer a bit of it to Crowley. Each time, the angel made a fuss about getting the perfect morsel or spoonful to offer his demon. Crowley, blissed half out of his mind, would find Aziraphale turning his head to face him and a utensil with an offering swaying enticingly in front of his snout.

He'd never been a big fan of food in general and he made no secret of the fact, so Crowley had been confused the first few times Aziraphale had offered him bites from his own plate after the mend of the world. Crowley very quickly learned to like it. Instead of Aziraphale focusing entirely on his meal, he now stopped occasionally to dote on Crowley. Aziraphale always smiled indulgently when Crowley accepted the food. And he laughed in delight when Crowley was surprised by the taste or investigated with his snake tongue apprehensively before risking a bite. The little bits of shared food and conversation made their meals feel like much less of a spectator sport, and they were both happier for it.

By now, they knew the rhythm of their new dance. Aziraphale hyped up the food while gathering a perfect taste of each dish, he offered it to Crowley, Crowley voiced his opinion, they affectionately bickered over it, then Aziraphale would continue his meal under Crowley's fond gaze. Once Aziraphale had eaten his fill, he sat back with a pleased sigh, wrapping his left arm around Crowley.

"How'd you like it, angel?" There were still leftovers of each dish, even though Crowley was certain Aziraphale ate almost three times as many slices of Bakewell tart than what could fit on the dish.

"Mmm, _exquisite_ , my love." Aziraphale trailed soft kisses along Crowley's jaw in thanks. Crowley's tail wagged enthusiastically enough to bring Aziraphale's tail along for the ride, and they both burst into laughter.

"We can save the rest for breakfast," and at Aziraphale's look, Crowley amended, "or for a midnight snack. It's going to be the perfect time to stargaze shortly." With a snap, he sent everything but their picnic blanket and champagne back into the basket. With another snap, he blew out all of the electrical transformers for miles and miles.

" _Crowley_ ," said Aziraphale with mild dismay.

"Don't _'Crowley'_ me," said the demon. "They call this a Dark Sky Discovery Site, but even with a new moon you can still hardly see the Milky Way from here most days."

" _Humans_ can hardly see the Milky Way from here. You know perfectly well, Crowley, that we could both see it from anywhere we chose to."

"You know perfectly well, Aziraphale, that it's not the same," Crowley countered.

The angel still pouted, so Crowley sighed and admitted, "Any place that really needs electricity will have enough backup power to get them through the night."

And there was the sunshine smile Crowley loved. "Well, that's alright then," said Aziraphale, and he took a long draught of champagne. "Oh, this Château Gilette is fantastic. Powerful and bright, I think. Alive! Complex, too. It's sweet, but it also has this great acidity to it… You were right about this being a fun one."

Crowley smiled, and took his own swig. "Reminds me of you," he confessed. Aziraphale turned and gave him _such_ a loving gaze that Crowley hid his snout against his angel's shoulder. He was still getting used to the full intensity of their feelings being all out in the open, beyond even the wildest of his old dreams.

Aziraphale set down his champagne and confiscated Crowley's bottle too, then wrapped both arms around the demon's narrow waist. He maneuvered them onto the picnic blanket until he was lying on his back and Crowley was settled on top of his soft belly and well-loved vest. A little happy noise escaped Crowley at being held so close, and he squirmed until he was properly lined up with Aziraphale, belly to belly, heart to heart.

_This is true luxury_ , Crowley thought fervently to himself as Aziraphale's wings cocooned them both, warmth soaking through their scales. Then Aziraphale's paw started stroking affectionately along Crowley's spine, and he was a goner. He sighed and mumbled embarrassingly soppy sentiments against Aziraphale's neck as every scrap of tension in his body faded away.

Aziraphale indulged him like this for a while, basking in their shared love and enjoying the pleasant texture of Crowley's scales and the silkiness of his braided mane under his paw. Then he teased, "If we just wanted dinner and a snuggle, you hardly needed to knock on the electricity, my dear serpent."

"Knock _out_ the electricity, for Someone's sake!" Crowley groaned. "It's been almost 150 years since they started using it, you must know that. And, and, besides—I never said we couldn't _multitask_."

"And how do you plan to stargaze with me like this?" Aziraphale's free paw started to caress Crowley's nearest wing. "Or were you planning for us to take turns looking up at the sky?"

"Nah," said Crowley. "I know you’re not used to having a body like this, but there's a few advantages to it." And with his long neck, he simply turned his head 180° to face the sky, pressing his cheek against Aziraphale's.

Aziraphale was unimpressed. "You do realize that is a little off-putting, yes?"

"Yeah, but it's pretty blessed cozy, innit?" Crowley countered.

Aziraphale eyed him for several moments, then smiled. "You're certainly right about that." He pressed several kisses onto Crowley's coiled neck and then settled back to admire the sky. "Ah, here's one I know. Arktos Megale." Aziraphale pointed at the bright chain of stars.

"Ah, yes. They call her Ursa Major, these days, or the Big Dipper if you don't have any taste." Crowley pointed with his tongue, too comfortable to use his arms. "And if you follow those two on the right, you'll see that they point straight at Polaris, the big celebrity star of Ursa Minor."

"Wh—" said Aziraphale, squinting at the sky. "Which one do you mean?"

"That one," and Crowley pointed again with his tongue.

Aziraphale glanced at him, then tried to follow the line of Crowley's tongue, but the sky was vast and Crowley's tongue was forked. How was an angel to know which specific stars of the nonillions out there he was meant to be admiring?

Crowley let out a deep, put-upon sigh. "Alright, how's this?" A swirl of red circled the two right-most stars of Ursa Major and swung up to Polaris, then traced along the edges of Ursa Minor before fading away.

"Ah, much better." Aziraphale gave Crowley an appreciative little squeeze. "Thank you, my darling."

"Tkp," said Crowley. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or offended at having to use a magical version of the interactive whiteboard he had plagued school systems with in the 90s.

"And what about Alpha Centauri?" asked Aziraphale. "I know I declined that trip before, but there's no reason we can't visit it together someday."

"Actually, we can't really see it from here. Earth's in the way. Gotta be closer to the equator to see it. Or below it."

A little grin curled the edge of Aziraphale's mouth. "So you're saying we'd have to go down south beyond the South Downs?"

Crowley groaned. "Not if you're going to say it like _that_."

Aziraphale laughed. "We really ought to visit South America sometime. See what's changed. I would love to check out their local stars, and maybe sample the Peruvian cuisine I've heard so much about…?"

"Anything you like, angel," said Crowley simply.

Aziraphale smiled. He played with Crowley's mane, and for a while, they simply enjoyed the stars and the breeze and the song of the nocturnal wildlife going about their business nearby.

* * *

Aziraphale was almost done enjoying his midnight snack when Crowley yawned, mouth opening almost impossibly wide now that his jaw didn't need to even pretend to be human.

"It's past your bedtime already, isn't it, darling?"

"'Sss fine," Crowley mumbled, nuzzling at Aziraphale's vest much like he usually did to his pillow.

"Perhaps we ought to be getting back,” sighed Aziraphale. "Though I very much understand your reluctance, love. This date has been absolutely and perfectly delightful." He caressed the length of Crowley's neck, and that alone almost put the demon to sleep, a drowsy little hiss escaping him.

"'Lightful," agreed Crowley dreamily.

With a chuckle, Aziraphale snapped the rest of the picnic back into its basket and started gathering Crowley into his arms. "I'll fly us back to the bookshop. Unless you have a dragon-sized bed hidden somewhere in your flat?"

Crowley nodded, then shook his head. "Yesss—no. No. Not'n the flat. Sss'in the co—" He paused. Then he shook his head vigorously, trying to wake himself up a bit. "Wait… wait… wait…"

Aziraphale waited, equally puzzled and amused.

"There'sss another part to thisss date. Almossst forgot."

"Really?" The angel's eyes sparkled at the thought. "Oh, I can hardly imagine anything that would make this night even more perfect!" He pressed a big smooch onto Crowley's forehead, and couldn't resist covering his snout with more little kisses.

Crowley tilted his face up towards Aziraphale like a flower to the sun, basking in the light of his affection. He was never going to get used to this, and Crowley was more than okay with that.

After his sweet demon was sufficiently relaxed and happy, Aziraphale paused his kisses to give Crowley a chance to collect his thoughts. It didn't help that his bright gaze and soft smile stayed focused on his demon, but eventually Crowley managed intelligible speech.

"Arranged a place for us to spend the night at, nearby." He hesitated. "Wasn't expecting us to be this size, but we'll still fit."

"Color me _intrigued_ , Crowley." Aziraphale's tail wagged and he pressed one more kiss onto Crowley's snout. "Where is it?"

"Mmm… we can fly there. Not far."

"I'll fly us there," Aziraphale insisted. "Show me the way?"

"Will do," said Crowley. He let his head slip off Aziraphale's shoulder and his neck flopped backwards so his snout almost touched the ground. "Like we rehearsed," he growled at the nearest flower, and the purple honeysuckle trembled.

Part of the landscape shuddered in response, all of the thousands of long skinny stems holding up spherical bundles of furled violet buds. They burst into bloom, globes of tiny lavender flowers unfurling with long pale filaments, for all the world like tiny fireworks captured at their zenith.

Aziraphale gasped in delight as the bright lilac petals traced a path through the countryside, glowing in the starlight. "My word, Crowley, that is simply marvelous! So romantic! How did you do it?"

Crowley lifted his head again to nuzzle comfortably against Aziraphale's collar. "Easy. They're already Devil's-Bit Scabious and didn't want to become Devil's-Salad Scabious."

"You're incorrigible," Aziraphale sighed, but he was too impressed for a proper scolding. After admiring the nearest plants, he grabbed the picnic basket, tightened his hold on Crowley, and launched himself into the air. This time, he kept a low altitude, feathers almost skimming the tall flowers that marked the way.

The flight was just long enough for apprehension to start nibbling away at Crowley's insides. What if Aziraphale didn't like the surprise he had in store? Or worse, what if he took offense? But it was too late to backpedal—the house was already in sight. Crowley took a deep breath to fortify himself, Aziraphale's soothingly familiar scent reminding him of the possible positive outcome. And _that_ was a dream worth chasing, he knew.

"This must be it," murmured Aziraphale, landing onto a driveway at the end of the floral path. "Such a charming place to spend the night. Er. Are you sure we'll fit inside like this, dear?"

"Y—yeah," said Crowley, reluctantly climbing out of Aziraphale's arms to stand on his own.

"Oh! Is it bigger on the inside, then?"

"Uhhhhhh, no, um, n-not yet at least. Yeah."

Aziraphale eyed the cottage doubtfully. "Are you _sure_ we'll—"

Crowley let out a very long hiss.

"Well, all _right_ ," sniffed Aziraphale indignantly. "No need to be _rude_."

Crowley looked down at the ground for wrath, but six thousand years had unfortunately burdened him with far too much patience when dealing with his angel. He patted his thigh absent-mindedly, then realized he wasn’t wearing any trousers.

"Huh? Oh, whoops. Left the keys in the car."

"Oh dear. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Nah," said Crowley. He slithered up to the cottage door and slipped his forked tongue into the keyhole. It was only a few moments' work before there was a click and the lock opened.

Aziraphale was staring. "I knew you could do really weird things with your tongue, Crowley, but this takes the cake."

"Whuh? S'weird?" Crowley's brow wrinkled but Aziraphale had already nudged him aside to walk in through the door, picnic basket held close.

"On, um. On your right. First one," Crowley said faintly, anxiety pooling in the pit of dread that had replaced his stomach. After the canceled apocalypse, Aziraphale had promised to not take offense at Crowley ‘going too fast’ and that he would just ask Crowley to slow down if needed. This was the first time Crowley had actually put the claim to the test, and he hoped desperately that Aziraphale would keep his word.

Casting curious glances at the other closed doors, Aziraphale strode down the little hallway and did as instructed. He gasped, dropping the basket and clutching his chest. "Oh! _Oh!_ Crowley! This is—this! This is a…"

"A nest," Crowley confirmed, half-coiled and ready to bolt.

A veritable sea of blankets and pillows and quilts and throws filled the living room, almost two feet deep. A few bowls and serving trays served as islands, carrying a varied selection of little hors d'oeuvres and drinks.

"Oh Crowley, this is bang up to the elephant!"

Crowley had considered a wide variety of possible responses to the nest and had mentally classified each one with the most likely outcome: fight, flight, smite, or alright. Elephants, however, had not been included in the analysis.

"Elephant?" echoed Crowley. "Do they, er… uh… also have nests…?"

"Well, if gorillas have nests—and they really do, my dear boy, we ought to watch that film again together—then I certainly don't see why elephants can't have nests too." Aziraphale was petting the nearest pillows with something like awe. "What an absolutely lovely nest! Hard to believe it's for me…"

Crowley sputtered so indignantly he almost accidentally spat fire. "Who bloody else would I nest for? The queen of England?"

Aziraphale sputtered back, "I'm quite sure she has enough residences already—"

"Aziraphale. _Aziraphale._ Aziraphale." Crowley took a deep breath and gathered the angel's paws in his. "Of _course_ this is for you, you ridiculous perfect angel. Been wanting to make you a nest for _ages_. 's not as good as the bookshop, which both you and I know is more of a home to me than my blessed flat, but it's a start. In fact…"

Crowley gulped, then took another deep breath to fortify his nerves. "In fact, this whole cottage is meant to be a nest. This bit here is from me to you, for our date today. But I was hoping we could build a… more _permanent_ nest together. Er… I left this building completely empty, except for this room, obviously. I want us to pick what furniture and decor and whatever goes in here together, and I'm looking forward to every stupid, ridiculous argument that's gonna entail. And it doesn't have to be this building either, or even this area, I just thought it was ni— Well, not _nice_ , but..."

Crowley floundered for a better word, but Aziraphale grabbed his cheeks and was covering his snout and forehead with so many kisses he could hardly even breathe.

"Crowley…! Oh my dearest love, I accept, I accept, I accept!"

"Ngk…! Wait, you haven't even tried out the nest yet, at least roll around in it a little to make sure it's comfortable before you decide!"

"How could this many blankets and pillows possibly be uncomfortable, Crowley?!"

"Could be the super high thread count stuff. Did you know that sometimes things that are expensive are worse? Wish that was one of mine, I got _several_ commendations for it."

"Yes, but you know that, my wicked, sly serpent, and you prepared this for _me_." Aziraphale gave Crowley a thoroughly indulgent look, and trailed a paw along his jawline. "Is this why you scheduled our date on a Friday? So that you could tempt me to sloth all weekend?"

Crowley swallowed, tail wagging wildly at the thought of snuggling with Aziraphale in his nest for forty-eight hours straight. "D'you… d'you think I succeeded?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I should try out the nest first, as you suggested. Wouldn't want to make a rash decision," Aziraphale teased. He started to climb into the nest, gingerly stepping from pillow to pillow as if expecting a particularly soft avalanche to occur under his feet.

"Not like _that_ , angel. It's easier if y'just…" Crowley dove into the mass of fabric and fluff, swimming through it effortlessly with a legless slither. He did a lap around the edges of the room, opening up all of the windows to let in the night breeze.

Aziraphale watched him with awe, then tried to do the same. But with a spine that insisted on being ramrod-straight, and clothes that caught against every fold in the blankets beneath him, Aziraphale mostly ended up slowly thrashing about and going nowhere.

"Angel, please… How about I just…" Crowley swung by and scooted under Aziraphale. With the startled angel on his back, Crowley slithered to the center of the nest and deposited him there.

"Now, go on, angel," said Crowley indulgently. "Roll around in the nest for a bit. Judge it properly, yeah?" He demonstrated, cavorting and wiggling his way around the veritable sea of pillows and blankets like a fish through water, then paused to watch Aziraphale expectantly.

Aziraphale merely grinned as he watched. "My dear, you must know that if you had offered a nest made of two twigs and a rock, I still would have accepted it."

Crowley's face screwed up with offense at the idea. "Two twigs and a bloody rock?? What kind of blessed idiot creature would do _that?"_

"Some kinds of pigeons, I've been told." Aziraphale's brows furrowed. "Which I'll admit is surprising, considering their work ethic as messengers."

"And humans have the gall to call them flying rats." Crowley harrumphed. "Rats make pretty terrific nests, gave me a few pointers for this one, in fact."

Aziraphale agreeably flopped onto his back, wings outstretched, and wiggled slowly in place, luxuriating in the pleasant variety of textures beneath his scales and feathers. "Really? Well, please do thank them on my behalf, this is truly marvelous!"

A satisfied smile spread on Crowley's face at the sight of Aziraphale enjoying the nest. He then fetched a tray of nibbles and set them within arm's reach before coiling comfortably near Aziraphale. "Better?"

Aziraphale pointedly traced his gaze along the distance between Crowley's body and his. "Not yet."

Crowley smiled so wide his jaw almost unhinged, and he rushed to snuggle up to his angel, pressing a kiss onto his cheek. Aziraphale chuckled and wrapped his arms around his demon, pulling him onto his chest. Crowley tucked his snout under Aziraphale's chin and relaxed. His angel wiggled in delight, enjoying not only their lovely plush nest, but also the elegant length and comforting weight of his demon snuggled atop his chest.

"So many different textures, Crowley, this just feels so luxurious!" Aziraphale blinked up at him shyly. "I'm the luckiest angel ever made, to have you on my side."

Several verbal keysmashes later, Crowley hid his snout against Aziraphale's neck, focusing on the scent of his warm body and familiar clothes until he had control of his tongue again.

"So that makes me the second luckiest angel," Crowley whispered. "Maybe I Fell, but that's nothing, not really, compared to being with you, here, on Earth. Wouldn't've ever been the same, if we'd all stayed up in Hea—in the old office. Six thousand blessed years we've been down here, and we've been through so much bullshit and misery and even the fourteenth bloody century, but… I'd go through it all again, no question, not one, just for the times we got to spend together. Even with our fights. And I hope we can wring out another few millennia of being together out of this planet before everyone decides to start fighting again. 'S all I want, really."

Silence, and then very loud and wet snuffling sounds above Crowley's head. He looked up, and Aziraphale was blubbering, both his paws holding nearby blankets to his eyes to catch his tears.

"That's _it_ ," Aziraphale cried. "I've _had it!"_

"Whuh— what? Angel? Are— are you—?"

"I can't hold out any longer," the angel wailed. "You _knew_ I was planning on a day at Kew Gardens next week! I had reservations at the _Ritz_ afterwards! And you still had to do— do…! Do _this!!"_

"Angel, I— Aziraphale, please, I—"

"Crowley, will you _please_ marry me? I'm not strong enough to wait any longer, please do not force me to!" And he pulled a little velvet box from inside his vest in such a hurry that he almost knocked it against Crowley's snout, and he held it open with trembling paws.

Inside was a silver replica of Aziraphale's winged signet ring, though the lion rampant had been replaced with a serpent coiled around an apple. A glance at Aziraphale's paw showed that the shield on his ring now featured the same design.

Crowley stared at it, dumbfounded. "I can't wear this."

"What do you mean you can't wear this?" asked Aziraphale, indignant. "You're not saying you—" he hesitated. "Did, did you not… did you not _want_ to get married?"

"What? No, yeah, I, I _do_ , I do I do I do!! But, uh… this ring isn't going to fit on my finger."

They both looked down at Crowley's scaled and taloned paw next to the tiny human-sized ring.

"Oh," said Aziraphale. "Well, I never! Why didn't you just say so? It's hardly a problem, my dear boy." He picked up the ring and began to slip it over Crowley's ring talon. And lo and behold, the ring grew to an appropriate size and wrapped its wings snugly around the base of Crowley's finger.

They both stared at the ring.

_Play it cool_ , Crowley told himself. _We’ve been practically married already, what difference did a bit of metal on his finger make?_

He threw back his head and let out a _very_ loud ululating yodel, then headbutted Aziraphale's chest and screamed into his waistcoat. Aziraphale laughed breathlessly as his demon vigorously wrapped his coils and wings and limbs around him, all while yelling at the top of his lungs to relieve some of the pent-up emotion in his chest.

Aziraphale stroked soothingly at as much of his husband as he could reach, and waited patiently for him to let it all out. Eventually, Crowley's voice trailed off and he flopped back onto his angel's chest, catching his breath. With a smile, Aziraphale caressed Crowley's cheeks and trailed his thumbs gently along the bridge of his snout. Crowley melted into the touch, sighing and pressing a soft kiss onto his angel's chest in thanks.

Then Aziraphale startled them both with a howl of his own.

Six _thousand_ years of carefully dancing around someone who was supposed to be his hereditary enemy but who understood him more than anyone else on Earth or above it. Six _thousand_ years of following orders, surprise visits from superiors, and endless fear of punishment. Six _thousand_ years of being powerless to stop atrocities done to humans and by humans in the name of good.

And now it was all over, and he was free to love Crowley, free to do as he liked, free to watch humanity growing and changing and creating.

All those feelings that Aziraphale had kept carefully locked up in the silver snuffbox of his soul for so long just poured out of him, unending and unapologetic. It was a catharsis he never thought he could achieve.

Then Crowley was howling along with him, a shout of joy and disbelief and relief and defiance and joy and joy and joy and joy.

They flopped back onto the pillows and blankets, exhausted and happy.

The night breeze flowed in through the window and tousled their manes as they caught their breaths.

"...Grapes?" Crowley offered.

Aziraphale nodded with a grin. "Thank you, _husband_."

Crowley clutched at his chest and stammered out what was probably half the alphabet of a dead language, then paused. "Wait… that's it? No wedding? No big dress? No gift registry?"

"Would you like those things?" asked Aziraphale softly, tracing his paw along the edge of Crowley's jaw. "You can have all of that, and more, if you like. I would be happy to set up the most elaborate wedding of all time. You _do_ deserve it, my love."

The demon considered it quietly for a while, tail swishing peaceably. "Nah," he finally decided. "Not now. I mean, I reserve the right to have a big froufrou job later if I'm bored. But the really important part is just _this_." He gestured to them in their nest. "Us. Together. That's all."

Aziraphale's smile was as soft as a sunrise and twice as bright. "I am of the same mind."

"Good, good," said Crowley, and he didn't even bother to correct himself. "But I'm sure you won't say no to some truly excellent wedding cake, so here's a slice." He lifted a cloche off a nearby serving tray to reveal a decadent slice of cake that had definitely not been there before.

"Only if you'll share it with me, my dear. It _is_ traditional." Aziraphale wiggled in delight. "Wait a tick… Is this Lancashire courting cake?"

"Thought it'd be appropriate," demurred Crowley.

"Absolutely," agreed Aziraphale, pulling a tiny dessert fork from their picnic basket. "Oh, this is _delicious_ , Crowley!"

Crowley smiled.

They shared the cake between soft little laughs and enthusiastic cuddling, then fell asleep, curled snugly together.

They both dreamt of whatever they liked best. It was just them, together and free, because it was the first day of the rest of their lives.

By: **[Disgustiphage](https://disgustiphage.tumblr.com)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still 👀 at this gorgeous scene by [Disgustiphage](https://disgustiphage.tumblr.com/)!! The lighting, the colors, the loving expression on their faces...!!!!!! LOVE IT! 😍
> 
> Also, [champagne sabrage is a real thing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qCp9-tEHa8U), and when I found out about it, I absolutely had to have Aziraphale performing the trick for Crowley. 
> 
> Also when I found out that there was a plant called [the Devil's Bit Scabious](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Succisa_pratensis) that's native to the South Downs / Devil's Dyke, I just had to include it! It's really a gorgeous little wildflower, and was a good replacement for the trail of fireflies I was initially going to put in until I found out that fireflies aren't native to the UK. [Glow-worms](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lampyris_noctiluca) _do_ exist, but I suspect Crowley would have a harder time wrangling those because they stop glowing once they find a mate. And it would be awfully rude of them to ruin his romantic path because they got laid faster than expected. 😂
> 
> Keep an eye out for the epilogue on the 22nd! I hope you guys have been enjoying the dragon ineffable husbands as much as I have!


	3. Epilogue: Legging it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an [optional honeymoon chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25447390/chapters/61718896) if you're interested...

The warm breeze streaming through the windows of the cottage was thick with the scent of wildflowers and the early morning chirps of local birds. Crowley was coiled around Aziraphale and Aziraphale was curled into a ball, and they were both hidden under several layers of wings and blankets that blocked most of the incoming light.

Still, Aziraphale started to stir, nuzzling drowsily at his demon husband with a satisfied little coo. A happy noise punctuated Crowley's next snore, and his grip on Aziraphale tightened temporarily in a sleepy hug. Aziraphale chuckled and started pressing little kisses on every bit of Crowley within snout's reach. His squirms of delight made Aziraphale laugh at the mildly ticklish sensation. The sound made Crowley wake up properly, his pupils flaring open and focusing on Aziraphale's face.

"Hullo," said Crowley, yawning. He paused, then grinned. "Hullo, hubby." He wiggled his talons delightedly to admire how his new ring caught the early morning light.

"Good morning, my beloved spouse," answered Aziraphale, very smug. "It seems to be an excellent day for breakfast in bed… Or rather, nibbles in our nest!"

He beamed, and Crowley groaned long and loud. "Don't you dare alliterate this early in the morning, you bastard."

"You said 'I do', you signed up for this," reminded Aziraphale with a very pleased grin.

Another longer, louder, and more performative groan. "Ugh! Which begs the question, is that why you still insisted on wearing clothes as a dragon? Because you had a ring in your pocket?"

"That could be a possibility," Aziraphale allowed, "but really, it's just _proper_."

And so they bickered and bantered and brunched until the muffled sound of a woman singing interrupted them.

They looked at each other in confusion, then reluctantly uncoiled. It was the ringtone of Aziraphale's new smartphone, which he had surprisingly requested on his own shortly after the failed apocalypse. He mostly used it to answer calls forwarded from the bookshop telephone when they were out, and to try to puzzle out the meanings of the memes and videos Crowley sent for his perusal.

Aziraphale fetched the cell phone out of his vest, and the soft vocals of "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" rang out more clearly.

"Who is this, Crowley? I don't recognize the number."

Crowley squinted at the screen. "Dunno, angel. Could be a telemarketer, could be a wrong number. Ought to be fun either way. Answer it."

After tittering for a moment, Aziraphale tried to accept the call, but his paws were too large for the phone screen. He looked at Crowley helplessly, and Crowley obliged him by using his flickering tongue on the screen to accept the call.

Aziraphale then tried to hold the phone up to his ear, but had trouble figuring out where his ear actually was in this draconic form. Crowley sighed and used his tongue again to set the call on speaker phone.

The angel shot him a deeply thankful grin. "Er, hello, the bookshop is quite definitely closed for the weekend—"

"Hello Aziraphale!" chirped Anathema's voice from the phone.

"Oh!" said Aziraphale with surprise, looking questioningly at Crowley, who just looked questioningly back. "Young Miss Anathema Device."

"Yes, the one and only," and there was a little nervous laughter. "Are you still really really mad at us for burning Agnes' second book instead of giving it to you?"

"Oh, _absolutely_ ," Aziraphale growled.

"Okay, but how mad are you _exactly?_ Like, 'too mad to bail us out of jail' mad?"

"Yes, I—wait." Aziraphale paused. " _Bail you out of jail?_ Anathema, you've been imprisoned??"

"Uhh, we're in custody, technically."

Aziraphale stood up straight in his smiting stance. "Young Miss Anathema Device, WHAT did you do?!"

Faintly in the background they heard a forlorn voice adding "and Newton....".

"We're perfectly innocent of course," Anathema insisted, "so it would be really helpful if you would just help us out here."

Crowley, who had been sitting and grinning the whole time, barked with laughter. "She's lying. They were trying to rob a bank."

"A bank?!" Aziraphale gasped. "Anathema, why—"

"Well, we've never done it before." She quickly added, "And we haven't done it now either, we are innocent. Please come pick us up."

Aziraphale huffed indignantly. "Hmm, if I had a certain book of prophecies in my collection, I would have certainly prepared for this eventuality…"

Newt's voice chimed in from the background. "Please, Mr. Aziraphale sir."

"Alright, alright." Aziraphale sighed, very put-upon. "Give me the address."

Anathema gratefully gave him all the details, and both humans thanked Aziraphale profusely before hanging up.

Crowley was extremely amused by it all. "Babies' first crime. Isn't that sweet?"

"Sounds like it was a very _poorly-made_ first attempt." Aziraphale rolled his eyes, then turned to give Crowley one of his sweet, imploring gazes. "You _will_ drive us there, won't you Crowley? We can teleport to the bookshop and pick up your Bentley."

"Anything for you, angel," Crowley said indulgently. " _And_ I'll even put up the money for bail." He paused. "…There's an animal metaphor I'm missing here. Definitely isn't ducks this time. Umm..."

"That would certainly be appreciated, Crowley. Ah... I suppose we ought to return to our usual corporations for this sort of thing." Aziraphale looked a little melancholy at the thought. "We certainly couldn't fit into the Bentley like this."

"Hmm, that's true... But what if we didn't?" asked Crowley.

"If we didn't what?"

"Turn back. Wouldn't it be fun to go rescue them like this?" Crowley so gestured dramatically at himself that he almost fell over.

Aziraphale's brows furrowed. "As dragons?"

"Yes."

"Well, wouldn't we be seen?"

"It's still reality, angel," Crowley reminded him. "Do you really think any humans will be able to parse two dragons breaking into a prison?"

"Hmm... I suppose you're right. Usually the humans expect the dragons to be guarding places, not breaking into them." Aziraphale smiled. "It explains their quaint little gargoyles."

"Ugly bastards they are, aren't they?"

"Well, they must have their charms—at least to the other gargoyles!"

"Pony!" Crowley cried.

"Pony gargoyles?" asked Aziraphale, confused.

"Pony up the money, that's what it was." Crowley paused. "Actually a pony would hit the spot right about now. Do you think we could grab one?"

"Crowley, my dear boy, normally I would never refuse you a meal but we are in the middle of a rescue mission right now!"

"Course, course." Crowley sighed.

Aziraphale reconsidered. "Well... If we happened to come across one on our way to the prison, one that was _unattended_ mind you, then perhaps we could pick it up on a 'going' basis."

" _To go_ , Aziraphale!" Crowley groaned.

"Yes, we rather ought to!" Aziraphale agreed. "Come on, I'll race you!"

"You wot?!"

"I'll race you! You'll see that you're not too fast for me anymore!"

"Is that so...? Let's see it!"

Crowley raced to the window and launched himself off into the sky and Aziraphale, laughing, gave chase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to the [Do It With Style](https://do-it-with-style-events.tumblr.com/) crew for organizing this absolutely wonderful event, I had a ton of fun! 
> 
> And thanks to everyone leaving kind comments and kudos on this fic! :D Hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing this!

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this and are ready for more dragons soon, hit **Subscribe** and you'll get email on the next update! Chapter 2 will be going up on July 15th and the epilogue will be up on July 22nd! And there's some more fun art to enjoy as well... ;)
> 
> Fun fact: As far as I know, [the Hundred Guineas Club](https://oscarwildesociety.wordpress.com/2014/02/20/the-gay-underworld-of-late-victorian-london-theo-aronsons-book-is-a-landmark-study-of-private-spaces-at-the-time-of-oscar-wilde/) did not actually produce the first proto-furries, though the female persona factoid is true. The nighttime activities there were also highly scandalous, enough that Crowley caught wind of it even long after it closed down, and was therefore surprised at the idea of his angel participating.
> 
> Please scroll back up and feast your eyes on [Disgustiphage's](https://disgustiphage.tumblr.com/) gorgeous take on these precious ineffable dragons and especially Crowley's perfect book hat! Though, if you imagined different dragon designs for Aziraphale and Crowley, I'm all ears, please share! 👀 These are dragon-loving hours 24/7!


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